Growing Up So Fast

This was taken about a week ago, the day Baby Bear turned 23 years months old.

Small Victory

I decided there's too much going on in my life. Even though I'm terrified of the potential for stupid emotional eating with no accountability, I need a little break from The Calorie Nazi.

I am currently alone in the house with a hormone surge, my emotional shitstorm and 20 bags of Halloween candy.

I just had a handful of diet rice cakes and a cup of herbal tea.

I think I get a gold star today.

Survey Says

Four different evaluators from Early Intervention (not to mention the Pediatric Neurologist who mentioned the possibility in the first place) overwhelmingly agree that Baby Bear has a Sensory Integration Disorder.

It's a neurological disorder that impacts how they process sensory input and can - if not addressed with therapy - severely impact social and learning abilities. Basically, in the last two days I've spent about 5 hours with various specialists and have come out understanding that every single difficulty Bear is having is rooted in the sensory disorder. (Even the speech delay, which with this disorder is often caused by their inability to properly feel their mouth and tongue, so can't control it to speak.)

The only thing that probably has nothing to do with the disorder is the screaming nighttime freakouts, which the behavior specialist said are almost certainly night terrors. Bottom line: horrific for parents to witness, no big deal for the actually still sleeping toddlers who have no awareness or memory of them. Just a brain development thing with synapses firing all wonky. They grow out of it.

Starting next week we'll be starting therapy 3 times a week: one session of speech therapy, one session of occupational therapy (essentially 'sensory therapy') and one session with the extra special, we're lucky he took us on behavior specialist. After 3 months of that they're recommending we add a 4th session a week to get him into group OT.

Plus I have to start incorporating sensory and speech activities into, well, every waking moment.

And I thought I was having trouble getting to the gym now...

She Makes it Look Easy

I still can't get over the awesomeness of it all. Chrissie Wellington is so totally my new girl crush.

Erma Bombeck is Smiling Down at Me from Heaven

Thought you might like to enjoy a laugh at my expense...

Bear slept unusually late Friday morning. As I enjoyed brushing my teeth sans the soundtrack of a child screaming to be released from a plush nursery bigger than my first apartment, I was already thinking I should have gotten up a little earlier to enjoy a shower by myself.

Because I had to attend a business meeting at noon. One that's already been rescheduled 4 times.

Typical game plan for showering without Husband to run Bear interference is to gather his bath stuff together and let him play in the water when I'm done. He usually plays in the tub the entire time I'm getting ready.

I open the shower curtain to discover that Bear had been playing on the tile floor with the water glasses (actual GLASS glasses) his parents had been too tired (read "too sick and spaced out on narcotic cough syrup") to put out of his reach before going to bed. And that Kona - who had already been out at least six times - had peed all over the bathroom floor. And that Bear had abandoned his attempt to shatter the water glasses in favor of splashing in the giant puddle of urine.

I could tell where Kona had wandered because Sable was gleefully running around the bedroom sniffing his footprints.

I piled on some towels and stripped Bear down to get him in the tub. At which point I discovered he had a poopy diaper. So - still naked and dripping wet - I scoop up the Bear with one hand, hold the diaper closed with the other hand, and rush him to his changing table in search of wipes.

It's worth noting at this point I'm on my period and - because I've only been to the store 3 times in the last week - had run out of tampons. So as I was running naked down the hall holding a half naked baby I was also hoping there wasn't blood running down my leg.

There were10 people coming Saturday to process 100 pounds of apples and I'd been sick for a week and the toilet's growing mold and the carpets were a lovely shade of German Shepherd.

So what I'm saying is, I hadn't had time to run downstairs to steal the last box of tampons from the extra bathroom so I certainly didn't have time to clean blood off the carpet.

I took him back in the bathroom and he saw my toothbrush, at which point he decided he had to brush his teeth again or the world would end. So I gave him his toothbrush and went into the closet to grab some underwear.

When I came out he was missing. I went looking for him and found him coming back upstairs - naked, and with toothbrush still in hand. He got to the top, pointed back down and said "uh-oh." Translation: I peed down there somewhere. Good luck finding it.

Then, while Bear played in the tub I desperately tried to get my hair under control. I got it cut by a new stylist Thursday. One whose name I'd be hard pressed to tell you. Because my regular stylist had to have emergency surgery and my other regular stylist was too booked taking appointments canceled by the other stylist. And I was a few months overdue for a cut and had already been forced to reschedule 3 times.

What I learned is, you have to be very specific about what you mean by "structure" when describing the cut you want to a new stylist. She gave me so much structure the Empire State Building is jealous. I've got more layers than an onion. Problem is, it's one of those cuts that requires a trained stylist and specialized equipment to style. Training and equipment I lack. It looked GREAT coming out of the salon. But when I tried to do it, I got something more along the lines of Holly Hunter meets the Shaggy DA circa 1987.

So as I'm trying not to have a hair meltdown the Bear climbed out of the tub and wraps his dripping wet body around my legs. The legs clad in brand new, just got 'em back from the tailor dress pants. So it's on to Plan B - the jeans I wore yesterday.

He goes back in the tub. I go back to my hair. In the mirror I see a naked toddler streak behind me into the closet and slam the door. I followed him immediately, but was too late. I found him hiding in the back corner of my closet under my dresses, gleefully playing with his own personal fountain of urine.

I got him cleaned up and dressed. I got my portfolio for the meeting. He hid under my desk.

I went back to finish my makeup. He wandered off with the toothpaste and toothbrush. I decided I didn't care.

When it was time to leave I found him hiding in the dog crate, sucking on the toothpaste, showing the dog the cartoon train on his toothbrush and excitedly explaining that trains say "Woo Woo!"

I may or may not have left a pile of urine soaked towels on my bathroom floor. But I made it to my meeting on time, so we're putting this one in the Win column.

Post Script... after all that, my meeting stood me up. I decided it was a sign I deserved a nice quiet lunch by myself.

Silver Linings

Schedules are about to get awfully complex around here because Bear has been referred for Speech Therapy due to a "significant" speech delay. Because he's about to turn 2 and - aside from "uh-oh" - is essentially nonverbal. (He doesn't even call me Mommy, people. It's HARD. To have a kid. Who screams all the time. And can't even say Mommy.) Based on his behavior issues he's also being evaluated by 3 other specialists. They suspect possible sensory integration disorder along with a sub-niche of that called self-regulatory disorder. The 4 specialists will be spending several hours with him next week to work out which of them he needs and to develop a treatment plan. At which point my life becomes about therapy appointments.

But on the bright side... my Bear will get what he needs so he can be happy and healthy and theoretically resolve all these issues before they can impact his education. And so he can call me Mommy.

Bear is sick. Again. As am I. And Wonderful Husband just came down with it today. Just the nature of flu season and having a child in daycare.

But on the bright side... I'm sick late enough I've got the Halloween event prep handled and early enough I've got time to recover before the events (personal and professional) I'm hosting. And work is really light right now, so keeping Bear home from school isn't hurting my business.

With everything going on I think I've worked out once in the last 2 months.

But on the bright side, my plantar fasciitis seems to appreciate the break and is gradually improving. Some days I don't even limp.

My beloved Kramer was missing for a week and returned unscathed, but it's still costing a small fortune in vet bills to recheck his blood and get his meds back on track.

But on the bright side... since his little adventure he's redefined what's scary, and no longer cowers in the basement all the time. Now he just tells Kona to back off so he can get all the love he needs.

I'm miserably sick with what I think is the flu.

But on the bright side... I'm losing a little more weight because I'm the kinds of sick that makes food totally unappealing.


Life was good before this temporary trip to crapsville, and it will be good again. I just have to put my head down and work through it.

Apple picking on a perfect September afternoon.